


A Different Veil

by CelestialKitten



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-11-06 14:07:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17941127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialKitten/pseuds/CelestialKitten
Summary: Sirius Black never fell through the curtain in the Department of Mysteries battle. He was saved, but at a cost. Harry is ripped from this world due to clumsiness and he must make a choice. Come back changed or finally get the peace he so desperately wants.ON HOLD UNTIL THIS WRITERS BLOCK GOES AWAY >_<





	1. Chapter 1

Sirius sat in stunned silence, the scene playing on repeat in his mind. The green light of an Avada Kedavra, heading straight for him, knowing he couldn't move out the way in time, accepting his fate, and in a way, feeling at peace. He would be sad for those left behind, Remus and Harry especially, but he knew they could do it without him. What did he truly contribute anyway?

Just as the light was about to hit him he saw a black blur, a flash of reflected light and he was shoved violently to the side, hitting the cold, hard floor. It took him but a moment to process that he wasn't dead, that someone had managed to save him. Turning to thank his savior, his eyes widened and a chocked sob tore from his throat. His hands reaching desperately, knowing he wouldn't make it in time to stop what was happening.

Emerald orbs gazed at him with shock and acceptance, a hint of anger at himself for his clumsiness shining through the expressive eyes as they slowly shut. The face they belonged to falling through the tattered curtain with the rest of his godson's body. He vaguely registered that the sounds of fighting witches and wizards had halted, the Headmaster having arrived and taken control of the fight, the Death Eaters fleeing as they rushed to get word to their master of the boy's demise. His own cousin cackling madly in the distance with sounds of triumph. "I killed Harry Potter! I killed Harry Potter!"

A hand lightly touched his shoulder, pulling him from the never-ending replay in his head and he glanced up into the face of his oldest friend before letting loose a heart wrenching sob.

"Oh Padfoot. He - I-" Remus stopped trying to speak as he knelt nest to Sirius and let the man cling to him, his own eyes clouded with sorrow. He knew no words would help. Their Prongslet was gone, their last tie to James, to hope and happiness destroyed. Torn from them too soon.

"He saved me Moony. He pushed me out of the way and tripped into the curtain! It's my fault! IT'S MY FAULT!" The words came out in muffled speech against Remus' shoulder.

"He wouldn't want you to blame yourself. He chose to save you, he loved you Padfoot," He knew the words wouldn't take the guilt from his friend, but felt he had to say something to push back his own sorrow. "We have to get out of here before the Aurors arrive."

He managed to get Sirius to his feet, slowly leading him away from the veil and towards the exit, intent on making sure his friend was out of harms way to honor Harry's sacrifice. A deep menacing thought creeping through his very being, his inner wolf fueling the rage building in him.

_That bitch is going to pay._

 

*****************************************************************************

 

The banners above the once bright and joyous hall full of chattering children content with gossiping and filling their faces with various foods were black, the hall quiet and curious. The magical sky attached to the ceiling was showing a starry sky and had clouds rumbling across, promising rain and misery. A loud clearing of the throat catching the attention of all in the room. Albus Dumbledore stood before his students not wearing his normally vibrant and brightly colored ridiculous robes, instead he wore a plain, ordinary black and the twinkling was gone from his eyes as he looked around and began to speak.

"Last night we lost one of our own. The school has lost a bright soul and Hogwarts mourns her loss of a child. As I can see the rumors have gone around and some of you have already heard. I am to confirm that the rumors are indeed true. Harry Potter has been taken from us too early. His young life snuffed out by Death Eaters," there were gasps and a few exclamations of protest, not wanting to believe the words spoken. A few snickers were heard coming from the Slytherin table but they had the knowledge not to show on their faces just how happy the thought made them. "I know the Ministry does not want to admit that Voldemort has returned but Harry saw it, and we should honor him by believing him and preparing ourselves. Death Eaters took the life of a 15 year old boy with no regard that he was just a child and they will not hesitate to do the same to any in their way. You must prepare yourselves for the reality of war. Honor Harry's life."

He sat back down thinking he had handled it quite well, scanning the faces across the tables to see if the message had stuck. His eyes stopped on the empty seats on the bench at the Gryffindor table where the Golden Trio normally sat. He gave a small sigh and shook himself a little. Yes it was unfortunate that Harry had died but he would be their martyr, their symbol of hope even in death. Things would be a tad more difficult since Voldemort hadn't been the one to kill him, ensuring that the horcrux was destroyed but since Harry hadn't miraculously been brought back and his body was gone he didn't see why it would matter. With Harry no longer in the land of the living the horcrux wasn't either. Two down.

While the Headmaster congratulated himself on figuring out how to use Harry's death, Severus was glancing at the old man with barely concealed rage. He had sworn an oath, an unbreakable vow to protect Harry for Lily, to atone. But yet… He was still alive, he still had his magic. Something was wrong. Oaths and vows could be tricky as the wording played a big role in how the magic binding it interpreted the actions of those involved but he was positive that should the boy die, he would at least have his magic ripped away or be in some kind of pain. But, nothing. Not even a whisper of any kind of danger. Had the old fool tricked him all those years ago or was he blatantly lying to everyone about the Potter brat. Shaking himself from his thoughts, he trailed his eyes over the brats. Some were openly bawling, others shaking their heads in disbelief and others, namely his snakes, were blank of expressions but if one looked closely enough you could see slight emotions in their eyes. They were gleeful, the ones who had inclinations towards the Dark Lord and his campaign. What surprised him was Draco looking torn over his rival no longer being around. He looked almost… Lost.

 

********************************************************************************

 

The duo of the golden trio sat hugging each other tightly, comforting one another as best they could, which admittedly, wasn’t much. They were there, they could have helped but they didn't, truly they couldn't but neither could shake the feeling of guilt and blaming themselves. The crackling fire of the Gryffindor common room gave a false sense of comfort that neither felt. They had been excused from classes and couldn't bear to face the Great Hall with Harry no longer sitting by their side or the forlorn faces of their fellow students.

"I can't believe he's gone, it can't be real. He's Harry. He gets into trouble all the time and he always pulls through. Why hasn't he come back? It's gotta be a joke 'Mione," the ginger boy's voice was heavy with wet emotion. " We have to find him. What if he's trapped. That's gotta be it! He just stuck behind that stupid curtain and no one thought to pop their head in to help him out!"

He glanced up to look into Hermione's eyes begging it to make sense, for her to agree that they run to find him, run to some sense of normalcy. She offered a shaky smile, her lips trembling with the effort to refrain from letting the salty tears fall as she tried to soothe Ron.

"It's not a joke, Ron. Once through that curtain, there is no coming back." She held back on adding anymore as a lump made itself known in her throat and she had to swallow thickly to prevent the sob that wanted to escape.

"That can't be true.. It just can't. It's just a bloody stupid curtain!" Ron's loud outburst made Hermione jump slightly but she understood his frustration. She ran her hands down his back in a comforting gesture calming him slightly. She knew she should tell him what the veil was, that once through the arch there was no coming back, even a touch of the tattered curtain could drain you of life but to go through it was to step into the realm of death with no chance of coming back but one look at his face told her to wait, that now wasn't the time. Instead she made placating noises, letting him rage and cry with his face in her hair and she stifled her own sobs, the tears streaming down her face against her will and tried to be strong for her last friend.

 

********************************************************************************

 

Voldemort prided himself on being cold, emotionless, cunning and above all powerful. He had felt a sense of unprecedented glee when Bellatrix had returned and gloated that the Potter child was dead. He had expressed his anger at the prophecy having been lost in the midst of battle and that while he was satisfied that the child was no longer a thorn in his side, he was angered as the kill was supposed to be his. A round of crucios that could have been much worse went around the gathered group and he had dismissed them. After though, there was a nagging sense inside him he didn't want to put a name to. He didn't _feel_ , the thought was preposterous but he couldn't help but realize that he had a sense of emptiness. The Potter brat had been a thorn in his side for so long that the thought that he was no longer around had thrown him, not that he would willingly let anyone know and anyone who thought as much would be swiftly punished. He knew, even if he would never admit it, that he had looked forward to the brat's confrontations, to the adrenaline that coursed through him at the thought that this one child could potentially match him. Had been destined to have the power to match him. And now there was no one. Dumbledore of course would be someone who would give him trouble but he never considered the old man as much of a threat.

He let out an uncharacteristic sigh, glad that none of his followers were present to see their lord looking so human, not that they would survive with the knowledge intact. He had let his obsession with the boy cloud his main goals and for that he knew he had been foolish. Yes the great Lord Voldemort had been foolish. He chuckled softly at his own stupidity.

$Masssster? What troublessss you? You sssmell of emotion.$ Nagini drew him out of his pondering and he moved his hand down to stroke the scales on her head as it drew up to look at him. She let out her tongue in rapid beats to let him know she approved of the attention.

$Ahh Nagini.. How could I have let myself become ssso obssssesssed? A mere child took all of my attention and now that the child issss gone…$ He sighed again. $I am unfamiliar with what I am experiencing.$

His familiar moved so that the top of her long coils rested comfortably in his lap as he continued to stroke her scales. $Perhapssss you missssss the child?$

The Dark Lord chuckled darkly. Surely not. But.. He could not find another word to describe the lack of motivation and ambition he was currently experiencing, something that had never happened to him before. He ran his free hand through the soft tresses of his hair as he had let his glamour fall once he was alone, a move no one would ever attribute to the fearful man before them. He had worked on his appearance since his resurrection. He would never admit to being vain but he knew how far charisma could get, since so many of his followers were gained from the oozing amounts he had had. He wasn't fooling himself to believe he could have the desired effect in the snakelike visage he had reborn into. It worked to cow his followers but if he ever wanted to use the vast amounts of cunning he was graced with then he could not look inhuman. The rituals had been painful and draining but he was happy with the result. He looked young, mid-twenties with a deceptively handsome face but had retained his red eyes as they were from so many uses of the Dark Arts and his creations of the Horcruxes. You could only kill and taint yourself so much before noticeable changes to the body happened belying your nature.

$That can't be it my dear Nagini. I believe I jusssst find myssself with no enemy and it issss different. Now my goalsss sssshall be easssier to attain.$

He pushed the confused emptiness out of his mind and stood slowly from his throne, Nagini following him at the sedate pace he set as he walked to his office. Now that the boy was out of his way he could go back to the path he had been on before he had ever heard of the blasted prophecy in the first place. Panic and fear in the masses so he could subtly take the Ministry and eventually the country. They were all within his grasp now.

 

*******************************************************************************

 

Somewhere within the Department of Mysteries, an archway stood atop a raised dais. Steps adorned the walls on every side, letting the mysterious veil have the center of the room. Countless Unspeakables had studied the enigma, yet none had ever known with certainty what laid beyond. All they knew was that once through, no one ever came out. The whispers sometimes heard faintly seeming to be filled with malcontent and malicious intentions, attempting to beckon those who came too close to just take a peek.

In the darkness of the night, the veil seemed more ominous and any sconces adorning the walls giving off only a sliver of light as the veil seemed to suck the life from the fire. An invisible breeze seemed to pass through the arch and the curtain fluttered. With no one to witness the affair, the veil was drawn to the side, a pale hand grasping the edges of the death veil. A long, muscled, yet wiry form moved to step out of the arch, seemingly from nowhere as there was no room behind the curtain.

Pale skin, raven hair and impossibly green eyes adorned the man as he gazed around the empty room. His pink lips opened showing a line of menacing sharp white teeth and he breathed in a deep gulp of air. A slight smile adorned his features and he stretched his muscled arms as if awakening from a long nap. Waving his hand in front of him, a date appeared before his face.

July 31st, 1996

He waved the numbers away and a smirk appeared on his pale face, the shadows making him appear more dangerous. "Seems you thought this was funny. My birthday of all days."

With a swirl of dark cloth, he blended in with the shadows and the man disappeared from the room as if he had never been present. The veil stilled and all was silent.


	2. Chapter 2

The little group huddled together in the dingy room was silent. The atmosphere solemn and tense. No one wanted to speak the words that they knew were truth, especially on this day. Night had settled on the world and the darkness mocked them. They all wondered why they were gathered and the date was only adding to the gloom. It was July 31st.

Just over a month since everything seemed hopeless and everyone felt lost. Their savior and friend was gone, today would have been his 16th birthday had the tragedy not happened. Hermione glanced around at those present, a heavy weight in her chest. Even knowing how stubborn her friend had been, she still felt an overwhelming sense of guilt that she hadn't tried harder to talk him out of going. Maybe if she had, then he would still be among them, still be the troubled teen with the weight of the world on his shoulders. She knew she should be grateful that he wasn't suffering anymore, that he was finally at peace but she couldn't bring herself to feel that way. They needed him, Ron needed him, Sirius needed him, she needed him. She needed her friend back.

  
The door opening with a bang interrupted the silence and Sirius made his way into the kitchen, stumbling as he made his way to a seat at the table. He glanced blearily at those sending him disapproving glances. "Geh off it. Is a man not allowed to drink as he sees fit in his own home!"

  
Molly Weasly looked at him with a soft look of pity in her eyes and moved to comfort him but he shook her gestures off and sent a snarl at the rest, causing everyone to turn away.

  
The man had taken to drinking every day, attempting to drown his sorrows in the bottom of a bottle. It wasn't healthy and many had tried to talk him out of the damaging behavior but none had succeeded and they had given up with Remus reminding them that he needed to grieve in his own way. The werewolf shuffled tiredly into the room, moving to sit next to Sirius and subtly casting spells to clean the drunken man. Dark circles lived under his amber eyes and many turned their pity onto him. Though they all felt the ache of loss, especially those who were close to Harry, it seemed Sirius and Remus had taken it the hardest and the former professor had taken it upon himself to watch over Sirius, afraid the man would do something rash and stupid.

  
Unknown to the rest of the Order, Remus was also using watching over his friend as an escape for himself. The thoughts he kept having and the emotions he kept having to hide were honestly scaring the poor man. Ever since that dreadful night, the wolf reared its head more and more, the rage swirling in the depths of his being barely kept contained. He feared what he would do if it got loose. Yes, he wanted revenge, he wanted vengeance and his wolf latched onto those deep feelings and wants but he was also scared of hurting someone, potentially killing someone and if that would finally make him into the beast the Ministry portrayed werewolves to be. He wasn't sure if he wanted to find out. Instead, he kept an eye on Padfoot, comforting when he could and making sure the drunken man didn't kill himself falling down the stairs, or Merlin forbid, run outside and get caught by Aurors.

  
He was pulled out of his rivaling emotional thoughts as the door opened once again, a tired looking Minerva and Albus walking through the doors. He wasn't surprised to see Severus not follow them in as he hadn't attended a meeting in weeks. Something had happened between him and Albus but no one knew what.

  
Albus took his place at the head of the table as Minerva sat to his right, the witch looking every bit her age. Blue eyes scanned the gathered members with somber eyes that only held a hint of the twinkle they once sported at every occasion. He placed gloved hands on the ragged wood before him looking worn.

  
"As we all know, the Death Eaters are becoming more active, the war looms in front of us, creeping up faster than even I anticipated. Voldemort," most at the table shuddered at the forbidden name being uttered, "has been sighted on numerous occasions but the Ministry is still denying the truth of the reports, claiming hallucinations. I fear this war will be upon us in a short matter of time."

  
"Albus, forgive me, but we know this already. What is the point of this meeting, today of all days?" Molly spoke what they all wondered, her voice hitching slightly to betray the tears she held back.

  
"Precisely what you think. With the darkness coming, I thought we could all use some time to mourn before we will have war on our doorsteps. I know it has been but a short time since young Harry was taken from this life but we must take the grief we feel and turn it into strength. The power of love knows no bounds, Lily's sacrifice that vanquished Voldemort once has proven that and we need to take the love we feel for Harry and use it to honor his memory. Fight for his memory and destroy the evil that darkens our world before it is too late," the twinkle seemed to shine brighter as he spoke. He couldn't let them become weak just because a child had died, they needed to see that his sacrifice was necessary, to see that they could use it to fuel their fight.

  
Molly nodded slightly, acknowledging the truth in his words. "For Harry, we will win."

  
Unbeknown to the gathered Order members, a pair of eyes observed them from the shadows, listening, calculating. As the witches and wizards began to come out of their stupors, rehashing stories of their fallen savior and comforted each other in their grief, the presence disappeared. Remus' nose twitched and he felt a slight sense of unease, but pushed it down, too focused on his inner battle to even pay attention to what his own senses told him.

  
Upstairs, in a dirty room, a cupboard door opened, the elf inside stunned without a sound. Kreacher watched with wide eyes as a stranger wrapped in shadows reached past him to his collection of heirlooms he had saved from those dreadful blood traitors. He struggled to move, to save his mistresses treasures but found that the magic holding him was too powerful even for his elf magic. The shadow stopped it's searching and pulled it's prize back towards its form, a set of pale lips smiling as it held its prize before its face. He recognized it, of course. It was Master Regulus' locket, the one he was meant to destroy but couldn't. It was his failure looking him in the face and it was about to be taken from him. The glistening gold, the green stones in the shape of a S on the front, all served to mock him.

  
"Thank you Kreacher, for saving this," the voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere. With those words, the locket disappeared from sight and the house elf felt whatever magic held him release and he jumped up, but the stranger was gone.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The fire cast its warm glow into the otherwise dark room, casting shadows across the one man who sat at a mahogany desk with his long, spidery fingers clasped under his chin, a far off look in his eyes. It had been just over a month since everything seemed clearer once more, that a fog of obsession and an intense urge had left him. At first, he had brushed away the feeling of unease as to what had caused the urges in the first place, but he had always sought to sate his curiosity. Ruby eyes flicked down to the pages of the book before him, scanning the words once more as though not fully comprehending them in the dim light. He could see just fine but he still didn't want to accept what they said. His face turned into a scowl and he resisted the temptation to toss the book into the flames.

  
The author didn't know that this man would be reading these words that were written and take them as an offense against himself, yet he was. 'Those who hear the words of a prophecy can either ignore, prevent or attempt to fulfill its meaning. These things, however, are all meant for interpretation and those who otherwise may have been spared from so-called fate, unwillingly place themselves in the midst of the turmoil. In short, those who meddle with prophecies, self-fulfill them and cause them to become their reality.' The words sat innocently taunting him from their pages.

  
Standing abruptly, the man whose name brought fear into the hearts of all who hear it, began pacing, agitatedly twirling rolling his wand between his fingers. If anyone were to see the feared wizard looking so human they wouldn't be able to believe it was the same man, not that they would live to tell the tale. The large viper curled in front of the flames lifted her head and flicked her tongue out several times, sensing her master's agitation.

  
$Masssster?$

  
Immediately the footfalls stopped and he turned to look at his familiar, the only one whom he trusted and would admit to having any positive emotions towards. $My beloved, I have come acrossssss information that impliesssss that I causssssed my own downfall. Ssssurely you mussssst sssseee why that would be upsssssetting.$ She cocked her head slightly to the side and stared into his eyes, sensing that there was more to it. Voldemort, You-Know-Who, Tom Marvolo Riddle, gracelessly, though of course still being graceful in an ungraceful act, folded into a lush armchair closer to his familiar. Nagini uncurled herself and slithered towards him, raising her head and allowing him to rest his hand on the base of her head.

  
$I can feel the lossssss of the diary more ssstrongly assss time goesss on. The ritualssss have worked marvelousssly but there issss sssstill ssssomething wrong. I am sssstill too fragmented. Hate, rage, loathing, thesssse are familiar, acceptable emotionssss yet I am unable to contain them assss I oncsse wasss. The compulsssion is lifted, but there is ssssomething misssing sssstill. It wasssss gone and even now that I am more whole, more of my better ssself, it has not returned but issss a disstant ache. There but changed and it infuriatessss me to not know what it issss.$ He hissed sharply, his anger seeping through the words.

  
Nagini gave a gentle nudge of her head against his hand and his eyes darted to her giving an uncharacteristic partial smile, more of a miniscule lift of the corner of his mouth. These were the only moments that the Dark Lord would let his masks down. He wasn't ever going to be an emotional man, never going to be considered a 'nice guy', but in his moments of sanity he wasn't as heartless as he appeared.

  
He ruled with fear for a purpose, and yes, he enjoyed causing pain and seeing the look of terror on his victim's faces, but that wasn't all he was. It never had been, but after being painted as such he had taken it in stride. He had already gotten followers in his task using his charm and intellect, he had decided to take what the masses wanted to portray him as and use it to gain more, to gain those that needed to be ruled with an iron fist of fear and degradation. It was only with the fear of death looming on him, the fear that he too would be defeated as Grindlewald had. If it had come down to his defeat, he wouldn't have given in so easily and he had harbored no doubts that he would die before someone bested him. He was the best and that would be the only way to prove otherwise.

  
So began his searches for the secrets of immortality and he was thinking rationally enough now to admit that it was also the decent into madness.  
Revealing that he had regained his previous ambitions, to the select followers that would follow him more readily for it, had been the best decision he had made in this last month. He had finally come to terms with the effects of the rituals he had imposed on himself in secret but he still had bouts of instability. He still struggled with reliving past experiences in his mind and wanting to curse himself for his rash behavior or stupidity. Who in their right mind would toy with your greatest enemy and give him a chance to escape, which he had, when he could have just killed the boy and been done with it.

  
The pain in his hand tore him from his thoughts and he gazed at it unseeing for a moment before a wordless spell healed the crescent shaped wounds in his palm. He massaged his temples and rose from the armchair to once more pace. "I should see how Severus is coming along with the potion," he muttered softly under his breath before sweeping from his office and to his meeting room.

  
Applying his standard glamours, and schooling his features into one of cold indifference and impatience, Voldemort pushed his intent to summon one Severus Snape to appear before him. Feeling the magic call to the Potion's Master through his Dark Mark, he began tapping his fingers against the arm of the throne. He hated waiting.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The little cottage had never been described as warm and inviting, never been set up to tailor to any guests and the only occupant that lived in the dwelling preferred solitude to inane ramblings. Books lay strewn across every available surface, a heavy cauldron bubbling over a small fire the only noise. Cupboard doors remained open, potion ingredients and vials visible on the otherwise empty shelves, parchment scattered along the floor with messy, hurried writing thrown across the pages.

  
Severus Snape was not a dirty man by any means. He prided himself on his cleanliness, though most would question it seeing as his hair always held a layer of grease from the fumes of the potions he so loved. These weeks spent researching, searching, and studying would have enraged him with the outcome of his simple home, had he not been so immersed in finding answers. Spinner's End was not a lavish place, not something any pureblood would be caught dead inside without a permanent mask of disdain gracing their features.

  
Mumbling under his breath, he combed through yet another book before snarling and throwing it to the floor. He rain his potion stained fingers through his greasy locks and deeply sighed, trying to calm his anger. With a flourish that was so naturally ingrained, he swept to his feet and stalked to the cauldron with his latest experiment simmering away. Giving it a quick stir as was required and leaning over the fumes, he inhaled to check if the scent was what he was hoping for, burning hair with a hint of metallic undertones stinging his nostrils, fortunately not making him cringe as he had long ago become accustomed to unpleasant smells when brewing his potions. He pushed memories away at how he had attained the hair that had been used in the concoction, admitting in a small corner of his mind that he had been wrong about Potter's upbringing, with an even smaller corner wedged into the deepest pits that he almost wished he could go back and amend his relationship with the brat, to be closer to the child of his unrequited love.

  
Thankfully those fat muggles and Lily's horse of a sister would never remember meeting him or the rather oddity of his request. They had promptly refused of course, as soon as Petunia had realized who he was, and he had had to bind them, rather forcefully as they had hit the ground hard enough for blood to spit through their mouths as something undoubtedly broke in their weak bodies and he took from their minds where Potter's room was. He was surprised and shocked to find the boy had been made to live in a cupboard for the first eleven years of his life but shoved it aside to go find the remnants of hair he had come searching for. It hadn't taken him long to find and that was a bit disturbing, as he had found multiple clumps all swept under the bed but he had deduced that he would return to scavenge their minds once more when he wasn't so pressed with time.

  
Shaking his head rather forcefully to clear the fog in his mind, he turned back to his project. The books had proven useless, it had been weeks and countless tomes had been poured over looking for some indication, some answer as to what happened beyond the veil. There were many encounters with archways in a similar style, but not one book, not one person had ever went behind the curtain and returned. Anyone living and witnessing still held no answers, had no definite reason and as such, the archways were ordered to be destroyed, once more the inability with human's rationality to accept something they didn't understand rearing it's head. These arches, these gates to the next world could prove undeniably useful, if progress was made. As it was, only one known pathway remained, and Harry Potter had fallen through it in the Department of Mysteries. The Unspeakables had no answers as to what laid beyond, only that there was no returning, they were positive it led to the next life, the body being destroyed in the process. But Severus Snape was not the type to rely on useless rumors. He knew something was wrong, and he trusted his instincts and if Albus had tricked him, he wanted revenge for the life it had forced him into.

  
He had been an angry boy, a boy too mad at the world to think clearly of what consequences his choices would have and it had made him fall into the life he currently had; stuck between two manipulative dictators. There was no mistaking that Dumbledore was just as much a power hungry lord of the Light as Voldemort was the Dark Lord, he just went about it in a different way; constantly spouting about the Greater Good and appearing in the guise of a kind old man. He hadn't been able to understand it in his youth, too guilt ridden by the part he played in Lily's death and he let himself be manipulated and guilt tripped, but no more. If the old coot had made him not swear a true oath than he could finally be free to make a real choice again.

  
He knew either way that he needed to know what had happened to the Potter brat. Regardless if the oath was real, he still had a lingering sense of guilt and as much as he hated to admit it he knew he would still try to protect the insufferable child; if only because it would, in some small way, feel like he would be making Lily proud.

  
Steeling his nerves and pushing his self-preservation to the side, he wasn't able to hold being a spy to two great powers without his own form of bravery after all, he scooped a ladle of the softly boiling potion, placing it delicately into a vial and used a quick charm to cool it so the glass did not shatter from the immense heat. He would get answers. Gritting his teeth, he raised the vial to his lips, speaking the only words necessary for this potion to work.

  
"Show me the fate of Harry Potter as it currently resides," with the softly spoken syllables pouring from his lips, he tipped back the vial and swallowed it in one gulp.

  
The results were instantaneous. He stumbled as his vision slanted and he couldn't tell if he was standing up anymore. Cursing his own stupidity since he of all people knew better, he succumbed to the visions flashing before him. Distantly, as if it was happening to someone other than himself, there was a slight burning tingle in his left forearm.


	3. Chapter 3

He had expected nothingness, a tiny corner of his mind hoping to fall through the tattered curtain and open his eyes to see his parent's loving faces, arms open to gather him in a warm embrace. He did not expect to land on a rocky ground. He lay there for a moment, confusion befuddling his mind while the dampness of the soil underneath him seeped into his side. No matter how long he laid there trying to process what was going on, no answer was coming to his brain. He cracked open his eyes to take in his surroundings. Tall, menacing trees stood around him and a lazy fog drifted and swirled around his body.

  
He sat up and put a hand to his head as dizziness made his head swim and his vision blur. He took in deep breathes and put a shaky hand to the ground, rising slowly to his feet. He took some time to orient himself before gazing through the thick forest, attempting to figure out where he was. A haze sat over the air and everything seemed grey, a small breeze sending smells of rain on the wind and a chill through his bones. Where am I? the thought rang over and over in his mind, nothing becoming clearer each time.  
He took a deep breath and steeled himself, he wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing, he would find his way out. With a glint of determination in his eyes, he set off at a semi-frantic pace, trying to find something of familiarity. The longer he walked, the more desperate and panic stricken he became. The same scenery passed him again and again. No sounds of animal life, no insects, no sound at all swept past him, nothing but the eerie fog and the small breeze.

  
His breathing started to become erratic as fear finally took root. What if I am dead and this is Hell? Is Hell real? Once through his mind, the thought would not leave. He began to think of anything he had ever done that could be considered punishable. Quirrell, Cedric, the Basilisk even and the one at the forefront was, of course, that he had failed. Failed to perform the one act that everyone in the Wizarding World expected of him, as much as he hated it. The swirling thoughts and their accompanying dread and guilt would not leave his mind.

  
"I don't understand. Why can't I ever have peace?!" He screamed at the same trees that kept surrounding him, over and over. He didn't expect a reply, he knew he was completely alone in whatever this version of Hell was.

  
Therefore, he was startled enough to fall backwards, tripping on a tree root peeking up from the dirt when he received one. "You are not in Hell young, tainted one. You are in a place of between. A place of decisions and knowledge. A place of creatures who no longer have a place or purpose."

  
He whirled his head around, fast enough to cause a loud crack as his neck popped, looking for the speaker of the words. He squinted when he saw no one, still seeing only the gloom and the same picture that refused to leave his sight. A chuckle vibrated through the expanse.

  
"Your primitive eyes cannot see me human."

  
"Then how - Who- Where-" the voice of the unknown being stopped him from stuttering out half formed questions.

  
"In time, young one. First you must make a decision and depending on what is chosen, all will be revealed through new eyes, or all forgotten."

  
"O-ok," came the uncertain reply from the raven haired teen. His eyes darted around, hoping he was looking in the right direction.

  
"Good, good. Now child, close the windows to your soul and look inward as I show you the possibilities," with that he felt a pressure on his temples, nearly making him jump out of his skin in fright. When it didn't go away he forced himself to relax and open up to what was happening. Either way, he was going to live to go see his friends or die like he thought he already had.

  
"Relax," was whispered in his mind and next thing he knew his head was swimming and he saw the aftermath of him tripping into the veil. Sirius was on the floor sobbing into Remus' shoulder, Hermione and Ron clinging to each other in the common room, Dumbledore giving a speech in the great hall with plain black robes adorning his old body, Death Eaters reporting to Voldemort that he was dead and rage, and some other emotion he couldn't place, flashing through the red slit eyes before he tortured them. All flew past in a matter of seconds before flying to the moment the prophecy slipped from Neville's pocket and shattered onto the floor. At the time, it went unheard, the noises too great but now all sound was muted and the voice of Trelawney clear "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have a power the Dark Lord does not, and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives."

  
Harry could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. That, that was what ruined his whole life? A vague prophecy that didn't even specify what Dark Lord or who it was that was being born? He felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice cold water over his head, freezing him through his entire being.

  
"This is the life you leave behind, your memory is already bringing new changes into the war to be fought by your kind."

  
"What -" Harry stopped to clear his throat. Once he was sure it wouldn't shake and be filled with raw emotion he continued. "What is the other option open to me?"

  
There was an approving note in the voice that replied as the pressure from his temples faded away. "To go back, to live, to change things. We are all bound to a destiny young one, but that destiny can be altered, it can be shaped into a different form."

  
"So….. So what do I have to do to go back?"

  
"You must change. You must work. You must decide."

  
Harry debated within himself. Yes, he didn’t want to leave his friends, his godfather, behind to a life of misery, but he was so tired of the ridicule, the pressure and the knowledge that he was expected to save Wizarding world. He heaved in a great sigh and opened his mouth to answer but whoever the voice belonged to interrupted him.  
"Know, child, that there is a catch to either decision you make." He shut his mouth and gave a determined nod, glad to know that he would have all of the facts, even though he was sure he wouldn't change his mind. "There is another soul trapped within you."

  
Harry's jaw went slack, his eyes widening in astonishment. Surely this was a joke. The voice continued, not letting him respond. "This soul was bestowed upon you when you were a mere babe. This was not done on purpose, but happened nonetheless. It has tainted you, for the bearer had done unforgivable acts, rituals that tore it apart until barely human. A connection was formed between you that is unbreakable save from your death. If you choose to simply die, this will be of no consequence to you anymore but your place in the bright place is not assured as the weights of good and evil will be balanced with this soul in the mix. However, if you choose to go back to the mortal plane, this connection, this soul fragment will still be within you and you will have to change to handle the intensity it will bring."

  
Harry felt stiff, he couldn't move, his arms feeling like lead and his body a ton of bricks. He had another's soul in him? He wasn't just Harry? He felt the weight settle back onto him but it centered in his stomach and he suddenly felt sick. A cloud in his mind appeared to shift and he realized he had known, but not known. The connection, the visions, it all made sense. The power the Dark Lord knew not.. It was a soul fragment lodged inside him, it's what tore from the wizard when he lost his body, what the prophecy had intended to happen. It all just clicked into place like a missing piece of a puzzle. "Voldemort," slipped passed his lips without a conscious thought.

  
"Yes that is the name of the original soul," came the unnecessary confirmation.

  
"If I go back, how do I have to change?" He felt proud for the briefest of moments that his befuddled mind could get the question out coherently.

  
"You shall have to renounce your humanity, you shall have to train in another realm filled with what you will become to prepare for the shift your reality will have to take. You shall have to once again make a choice. Find the source of the soul's immortality and crush it along with your own life or save the original bearer. This Voldemort can save your kind or destroy it. It will all depend on you."

  
Harry couldn't stifle the groan that slipped passed his lips. Great another thing on his shoulders, another way the Wizarding World's fate rested with him. Thinking of the other offer, he briefly considered saying he would take the judgment and just move on but he knew if he made it to see his parents they would disapprove. It would be the coward's way out and as much as he wanted peace, he was no coward.

  
"I'll change and go back."

  
"Good, little one. I had hoped you would decide along this course."

  
There was a stronger gust of air and Harry blinked several times to get his eyes to adjust to what he was seeing. Standing before him was a blurry figure. No discernable features could be seen and he cocked his head to the side with a confused look on his face. He heard laughter and felt his glasses moved gently off of his face. The figure was now clear as day, tall, with bright hazel eyes, long brown hair with slightly pointed ears poking through, prominent bone structure and pale pink lips. He went to ask what happened to his vision when the androgynous figure held out his hand and helped Harry to his feet. Then he opened his mouth and Harry took a giant step backwards. The teeth behind those deceptive lips were all sharp and pointy, looking like a demon ready to tear into flesh.

  
A chuckle was the only response to his reaction, hand still held out awaiting him to grasp it. Taking a hesitant step forward and summoning all of his courage he touched the appendage, briefly noticing that the nails were long and sharp looking, almost like claws. With that, the world around them fazed out of existence and he found himself surrounded by a barren landscape.

  
He blinked slowly, clearly confused by what he saw. He didn't have much time to ponder the situation as he felt a tug on his hand and was pulled along behind the creature before him. They walked for what felt like minutes but seemed to go for miles before they went through what looked like shimmering air and he lost his breath. It was simply, beautiful.

  
The sun was high in the sky warming his face as he lifted it to meet the rays, there were lush forest landscapes in the distance, a rocky formation with a cascading waterfall throwing rainbows in the air and there was a small outcrop of buildings nearby. People appearing in a similar fashion to his mysterious companion bustled about not paying them any attention as they wandered closer.

  
"Welcome to the Nether Realm," his companion's voice seemed different, a bit more feminine and light, melodic even. Harry did a double take, reevaluating the appearance of the female before him. She laughed merrily, a knowing glint in her eyes, a smile playing around her lips showing he was forgiven for his assumption that she was probably a male. She let his hand fall back to his side and gave him a wink that seemed too elegant for such a simple gesture. "We do not appear quite the same to each other as others see us. You will get used to the changes soon. We have almost limitless time to teach you and let you come into your rebirth."

  
She began to walk away with a steady pace, almost appearing to glide, throwing a glance over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow to ask if he was just going to stand there. He hurried after her, a million questions wanting to pour from his lips. "All of your questions will be answered in time and with experience, young one. Do not fret. Time here moves differently than in your birth plane. Years may pass here while only a day has fazed those with a mortal soul. It is the balance of the realms. We live much, much longer and they live short lives, so for us there is no reason to fear time."

  
Harry still felt confused but kept his mouth shut and kept following after the woman leading him to his new destiny. And what a destiny it would become.

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Years had passed since the words of acceptance had slipped past his lips. The training had been difficult at first, getting used to the changes in his body had been the biggest block to his progress, but over time he had succeeded. When he had first asked what it was they were, what he now was, there were no answers that helped. They simply had no name for their species, no memories of how they came to be. It just always was that they had been charged with seeing to it that the 'place of the ones with no place' had always been theirs to oversee. There were a few others like him that had come through and chosen to change, some had gone back to enact amazing results to their home worlds, some fading into the background afraid of judgment and he was told that their fate was one that was the saddest as they were forever doomed in staying in that forest, cursed to wander for eternity as their soul could not find balance. There were others still that had been given the choice to stay, no great destiny needing them to be back in the realm of their birth. Still, he couldn't bring himself to stop questioning, needing answers and a confirmation that he had made the right choice.

  
He still couldn't help feeling pity for those who weren't given a choice, those who were condemned to wander that unchanging, bleak forest for the rest of eternity. He remembered asking why some got choices to move on or change and why others did not. The answer was not satisfying but he had accepted it as truth, as much as it unsettled him. Simply put, they were compelled to go visit the grey forest when they were needed and once there, met with whoever it was that they were meant to meet, the information needed making itself known in whoever was compelled to make the journey. His new species believed very heavily in the fates and they never questioned them.

  
"Young one! Eyes up, get out of that head of yours and concentrate," the smooth tenor tore him from his recollections and he looked sheepishly at the blonde haired man across the field from him.

  
"Sorry about that Clovis, just reliving how much things have changed," came his reply.

  
Clovis gave him an understanding look and fell into a battle stance, Harry adopting his own. He took a slight moment to calm himself and wipe his mind of any distractions, centering his magic. He gave a slight incline of his head to show he was ready and the battle was on. Two forms blurred around each other in quick succession. One with large rippling muscles that belied how agile and fast he was, the other more slender with deceiving wiry muscles glistening in the sunlight as sweat began to form on his skin.  
It was over quicker than the eye could see. The raven haired boy smiled triumphantly, sharp teeth poking out from behind soft lips, a gleam of satisfaction shining from emerald orbs. The blonde laying on his back in the dirt shoved the hand held around his throat and nodded with pride shining in golden eyes.

  
"Now that is more like it. You are finally coming into your own. If you keep up this pace, we can move onto magic battles soon."

  
Harry held out his hand to help his teacher, the man he now considered a close friend, to his feet. Clovis accepted the hand stretched out to him, grasping it gently before suddenly tightening his grip almost painfully and yanking the raven haired man to the ground. Harry's eyes flicked to look into silver eyes with a mock glare and shoved the small blade at his throat to the side before gracefully springing to his feet.

  
"Hmmm, maybe you need to relearn the matters of trusting too easily," Clovis' voice was full of amusement and he lifted himself from the dirt to give his trainee a good natured pat on the shoulder.

  
Harry chuckled softly under his breath, unbidden memories of his foolishness in his mortal life making themselves known. He had been manipulated from the day that the prophecy had been thrust into his life, rearing its ugly head and placing a sense of compulsion on him, and Voldemort as well as far as he knew, to complete the binds it held. It hadn't helped that Dumbledore had placed similar compulsion spells on him as well, making him blindly follow the old fool in whatever machinations he was laying before him. He hadn't had control over his actions, over his choices and he had been blinded by it. Upon learning of his birthright as a wizard he had been overjoyed, positive that his life was going to be changed for the better and vowing that he was going to be a great asset to his new world. He had truly believed he would leave behind his terrible life and start anew, but of course that had never happened and he had been pushed over and over again.

  
It seemed like a distant memory, the sorting hat telling him his true house was Slytherin, it hadn't felt true for many, many years. Now that he was free of it all, the impulses were gone and the traits that he held, the traits that made him who he was, were now back and in his own control. No longer was he the impulsive, foolhardy Gryffindor that everyone perceived and expected him to be. He felt like himself again, felt his true ambitions returning to him the more time spent away from those who had lied and betrayed him. He finally felt free.

  
Looking around at the people naturally of this realm, he felt a sad pang in his heart at the knowledge that someday he would have to leave and return to the world that had made him so miserable. Clovis, as if sensing the change in his charge, gave him a little nudge and motioned for them to head to the hall. Harry gave a small smile, gratitude shining in his eyes at the distraction from the somber feelings. Together they made their way back to the little town, the sounds of playing children reaching their ears. He sighed slightly, losing himself in the sense of normalcy that settled upon him and began asking his questions once more. Delightedly basking in the way that no truths were hidden from him here.

  
Yes, he wished he could stay and dreaded the return he would someday make, but for now he would enjoy his new life.

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Emerald eyes narrowed in concentration, clawed hands tapping a steady beat against the table. He wouldn't lose, he would strive forward, he would win! A deep rumbling sound broke from his enemy across him and a head of blonde hair gave a sharp nod. With the signal to begin their battle, the raven's head stilled and his eyes closed. This was a battle of wills, a battle of the utmost importance, he could not lose. Mere seconds later as if the owner could not hold it in any longer, a noise sounding suspiciously like a giggle broke the silence before he felt little hands on his sides, in his hair and around his face. He held completely still, attempting not to move, no muscles allowed to twitch.

  
After agonizing minutes he broke and gave in to the tickles. He opened his eyes and gazed warmly at the children surrounding both himself and the man across him, smiling widely and reaching his hands over to scoop two of the children in his arms, giving his own rendition of a tickle torture.

  
They turned into squirming balls of laughter and they ran off laughing once they were released. The blonde man turned his kind eyes away from the running forms of the children to the man seated across from him, a triumphant smirk adorning his features. "Told you they could find your weak spots. Those little devils have got a talent for it," his tenor rang out into the air, daring the raven haired man to argue.

  
Harry slouched slightly and gave a defeated sigh. "Okay, okay, you win. Who could deny those little scamps anyway? "

  
Before the blonde man could reply, the curtain to the room moved and a brown haired woman glided in before taking a seat on his lap. She looked across the table at Harry and gave a warm smile. "I hear you were beaten in a fight by children. Really Andri, have you merely been training to take on a child?" There was a teasing note to her words.  
He feigned hurt with a hand over his heart and a dramatic sound to his voice. "Oh alas, you, my greatest love have found out my truth. Oh how will you ever forgive me?" He held out a hand to her which she promptly smacked with a giggle.

  
"Now, now, it is not proper to get a lady's hopes to raise when she knows it is all for naught, for I am not what you prefer in a mate," again the teasing shone through her voice. He chuckled and sent her a look of sorrow and pretended that his heart broke, falling to the floor like he was dying. She swung her foot at him which he nimbly avoided and rolled to his feet, the picture of grace and agility. Once he had resettled in his chair she exchanged looks with her blonde mate.

  
Harry, dubbed Andri in his new form, gave an uncharacteristic sigh. He knew that the time for fun and games were over. It was nearing his time to return to the mortal realm, to his home realm. His time here had been marvelous, he had learned so many things, so many truths he had been blinded to as a child, truths he had been lied to about and had hidden from him. He had made many lasting friendships with the local people here and had lived what would have been considered a long life in his home world. As time worked differently here, he didn't appear to be a day over 19.

  
He had grown, the changes to his species attributing to the growth spurt he had always wished for, his training building lithe muscles and expanding his already vast magical core. He would never be bulging, but he found he preferred having less muscle mass and more strength, it would be easier to underestimate him and it was easier to move with agility. Not that anyone would if they truly looked at him. He knew he appeared dangerous now, but he held his playful side, knowing that when it came down to business he would be fierce and steadfast in his decisions. He held the knowledge of a century in his skull and he would use his new abilities to his advantage.

  
"Oh Andri, we will miss you terribly. I wish you didn't have to go, but it is what must be done," Eritrea gave him a soft, sad look, gracefully getting to her feet to come encompass him in a tight hug.

  
"Yes we will, my friend," the blonde man stood as well, placing a firm hand on his shoulder and an encouraging smile.

  
"Clovis, I will miss you as well. And of course I will miss you Eritrea. You gave me the chance at this wonderful life. Regardless of what my future holds, I will always be thankful and happy for this."

  
He rose to his feet and clasped arms with his blonde friend and followed the brunet out of the hut. He remembered the warnings, that it hadn't been long in his realm, though to him it had been decades, that people would not be welcome to his new status as a non-human, which he already knew, and that there was a slight chance he may not go back whole. It was the greatest risk being sent back to a realm different than you left it. There was a chance he could be a bit mad or worse, completely insane. The thought of being anything like Bellatrix left a sour taste in his mouth and he shuddered before shoving the thought from his mind. No point in worrying when it was only a possibility and it wasn't like he had much of a choice after all.

  
This was it. He was going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the next 2 chapters written but have found myself fighting a slight block for this story. Any constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

Sweat beaded on the sallow skin and a tremble wracked the prone body of the man lying on the floor. Lids slowly fluttered open to reveal black eyes gazing unseeing at the white ceiling. His chest heaved as he took in a shuttering breath and his mind began to return to itself as the visions he had just witnessed attempted to process through his muddled mind. A sharp pain pulled him to his senses and he jerkily grabbed at his forearm, realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. He was being summoned and from the way the mark burned he had taken too long and the Dark Lord was beyond pissed at his tardiness.

 

He uncharacteristically scrambled to his feet, his unsteady legs threatening to give out beneath him and he had to grip the armchair to prevent a tumble back to the ground. The intensity in the mark increased exponentially and he hissed through his teeth. Hurrying to his closet, he grabbed his plain black robes and the white bone mask, donning them quickly before turning on the spot.

 

He reappeared in a cold room, sconces adorning the walls in intervals, every other one lit. Shadows threw themselves upon the imposing figure seated in the only seat, a throne, and ruby eyes glittered in the sparse lighting. Severus quickly made his way to the bottom of the steps that the throne stood at the top of, bowing with grace. A soft hissing made his eyes dart up and a chill go down his spine. No matter how many times the Dark Lord spoke in the serpent's tongue, it never ceased to put him on edge.

 

Voldemort's long spidery fingers massaged the top of his familiar's head as her tongue flicked out, tasting the scents in the air, namely that of one potion's master kneeling before them.

 

$He ssssmellsss confussed and frightened.$

 

Voldemort nodded, sensing the same emotions through the bond of the Dark Mark. $Yesss.$

 

Looking at his follower he felt some of the rage diminish but not leave completely. He still had the urge to curse the man for taking so long to answer his summons and his hand itched to raise his yew wand and crucio him. He wasn't a fool, he knew Severus Snape was a highly intelligent man and had successfully played spy to both sides, no doubt due to his insanity over the years causing him to lose faith in his first Master. If he hadn't performed his rituals then he knew that he wouldn't have hesitated to cast the killing curse at the man, presumably before he had even outlived his usefulness.

 

"My lord?" Severus' voice broke the internal musings. To anyone else, they would have assumed he was assured in his question of why he had been summoned, but Voldemort could feel and see through the façade, the man was beyond exhausted and was fearful of a torture session for displeasing him.

 

Holding his face in a mask of indifference and barely contained rage Voldemort leaned back in his throne, his hand idly twirling his wand between his fingers. "What, dear Severus, was so important to risk my wrath?"

 

Snape inhaled a bit deeper than necessary and wiped any emotion from his mind, quickly calculating if he could successfully evade the question from the truth. He had no doubt that he was running on fumes, his mind hadn't had the chance to process what he had seen. He knew the Dark Lord's powers were growing, he was much stronger than when he had first rebirthed but he was also a bit calmer now. He noticed, though he doubted many others did, that he didn't torture needlessly as much as he used to, even before he had been torn into nothing more than a spirit. There also seemed to be a calculating glint in his eyes more often, something that Severus hoped meant that he was becoming saner. If he continued on the same track of mind he had been, then he hoped that his suspicions were true because he missed the charming, powerful man he had been proud to follow. Watching his decent into madness and obsession had hardened him to the fact that he had potentially made the wrong choice, making it easier to betray him to follow the old fool. It hadn't helped that he was wracked with guilt at the time either. He knew that the madness had already been there but it seemed to get even worse as time progressed and it came to a crux the moment he spoke the words of the prophecy that had ruined his life.

 

Steeling himself for the torture that was sure to come with his answer he spoke in a soft tone, his fatigue showing through. "I meant no disrespect, milord. I was testing a new potion and it had unintended side effects." He suppressed the flinch at the thinly veiled anger he saw in those red eyes and quickly tilted his chin back down so that he was staring at the floor, awaiting hearing those words that would make his entire body spasm with pain. He hoped he would make it back and be able to get to his potion to counter the effects before he passed out.

 

"You tessssted my potion without notifying me of the progressss?" the threat was evident in the silky voice, a lilting hiss showing his anger.

 

Knowing now what he was thinking, Severus mentally chastised himself. Of course! How could he forget that he was due to report the progress on the experimental potion that had been requested, read demanded, of him. Now he was definitely in for it, since he had been focusing on his own work. "Of course not, milord. I know to not take what is intended for yourself. I was in a stage in your potion that did not require my immediate watch."

 

Nagini hissed loudly, causing the man on his knees to give a slight jump, expecting the next sound to have been a crucio leaving the Dark Lord's lips. He mentally berated himself for his slip, he knew better than to show weakness in front of this man, he hated those who were weak. Voldemort however was stopped from giving into the unstable part of himself at the hissed words from his familiar. She was right. He needed to stop and process, not just react to his anger, it was too Gryffindorish. He curbed his urge, shoving the emotion roughly behind his Occulmency shields.

 

"What is your progress on your task and what potion did you deign to place before my own?" his words barely hid the simmering emotion being pushed down beneath.

 

"I apologize for my mistake. I was testing a potion I invented to find the location and fate of another," Severus refused to look up, not wanting another reason to anger the powerful man before him. He hated feeling so weak and he cursed himself for letting himself be in the position he was currently in.

 

"Who?" the demand for an answer was hidden behind a question.

 

Severus swallowed thickly. "Harry Potter."

 

"Did it work?"

 

Severus' head shot up at the question, seeing genuine curiosity in those slit eyes. He couldn't hide the shock he felt, it was too encompassing. "I…. I don't know. The visions it showed were jumbled together, it did not make sense."

 

"Gather the memories in your pensive and return to me when you have finished. I shall see for myself," with that he waved his hand dismissing the greasy haired man. "Oh and Severus, do not test my patience again. Next time I won't be so lenient."

 

A pop signaled that he was alone with his familiar once more. A low rumbling emitted from his chest, sounding suspiciously like a growl and he ran spidery fingers over his bald head, a dark scowl gracing his serpentine features. He could no longer be considered fully human, if at all, anymore but he would be damned if he let his instincts and emotions control him. Once upon a time, yes he would have and had, but not anymore. Those rituals were meant to give his mind back the control, push away the urges to kill and maim and indulge in fear without considering if it was the best option. Where had his Slytherin cunning gone? It was what he had clung to and proudly used for so many years. He needed that potion done now, it was the only thing keeping him from pushing back and regaining his true self once more, the only thing that could finally give him a truly clear head for days at a time instead of merely hours or minutes. Not that Severus knew exactly what it was for, he had only told him what was needed for him to successfully create the potion and not an ounce of information more. He may have been his spy, but he was the old fool's too and he couldn't chance secrets he'd kill to keep from being leaked.

 

He would forgive his follower this one time for putting his desires above his own, but only due to the fact that now he was curious. Something told him that the Potter brat hadn't truly perished even though all the signs said he had. After he was given the pensive he would demand his potion become top priority and sped up. He needed it more than ever, especially if the boy was still out there waiting to come for him. It shouldn't worry him but the damn prophecy lingered in the back of his mind. It had worked against him before and he wasn't taking any chances this time.

 

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Harry sat debating with himself, mentally moving around what he had witnessed and attempting to come to an educated decision. He had seen how his old friends and allies had taken his supposed death and, while he wanted to believe it was all as it seemed, he knew better than to take what was on the surface as fact. He believed that Remus and Sirius were truly mourning him, he believed Hermione and Ron felt some type of hurt over his loss but to his new senses it didn't feel completely genuine, there was something seriously off. Dumbledore… The thought of the man filled him with contempt and an almost uncontrollable urge to rip his throat out. It was all an act, the emotions the man portrayed were like those of an actor making his grand debut on the stage. With all of his new, well newer since he had learned and accepted them ages ago, knowledge of the man's manipulations and deceit throughout his life it was so much easier to see it for himself when he laid eyes on him. He could feel the waves of magic spread out reaching towards those he spoke to make them comfortable and to feel more inclined to believe his words as truth. It was disgusting.

 

Fragmented thoughts reached his consciousness and he had to push them away with annoyance.

 

Since his return he had known he wasn't whole, that at least one possible consequence of returning to the Earthly plane from where he had been reborn had taken hold. His mind was cracked, though only slightly, it was enough for foreign emotion and thoughts to take hold so suddenly it made his head whirl and took vast amounts of self control to push it back. He had a sneaking suspicion of what was causing it as it didn't fully feel like himself. He knew he had new urges, as the creature he had become was partial to instincts, and he had been warned. In the Nether plane they were like a passing chill, there and quickly forgotten, easy to remedy. Here, however, they would be more difficult to control and if his mind had broken completely, he would have gone mad until he satisfied them, no longer having self-control. But he knew these thoughts of bloodlust weren't it, there was too much anger and rage attached, not the sense of rightness and the persuasive allure of fulfilling the need, the promise of bliss at indulging his nature.

 

He needed a clear head so the rash actions that he used to be prone to did not once more rear its ugly head. Did he save those of the light and once more return to being their weapon, though he would be more inclined to doing it from the shadows and continuing to have them believe he was deceased. Or did he turn to Voldemort and manipulate or force him to see reason and to follow a less destructive path. Would that even work? Did he even care enough about this corrupt world to fix or save it?

Decisions, decisions. He knew he had to first witness the changes he had been told happened to the Dark Lord before he could make a proper decision. No more was he going to go off of someone else's information, even if he did trust those back at what he now considered home. There was always a chance that they didn't have all of the facts, it wasn't like they had witnessed the events first-hand and perhaps the information had gotten skewed along the way. He would have to see for himself.

 

Glancing at the locket he had safely in his possession, he nodded in silent musings. He would see how his once, possibly still, sworn enemy had changed and continue to collect the Horcruxes. If nothing else, they could be used to tip the scales either way. He didn't feel any remorse over the thought of blackmail and he would not hesitate to use it as such if the situation arose. He had to find the rest. He had been given general areas for them, though if Eritrea was supposed to have given him that little detail he was unsure of, but he appreciated it nonetheless. The logical move would be to gather the dark trinkets first, but he so wanted to sate his curiosity and it was liberating to not have anyone telling him that he couldn't. Everything was his choice now and he was going to start doing whatever he wanted. Screw the consequences, if he was perfectly honest with himself, he was going to have fun seeing what he could stir up with no one the wiser.

 

A sinister smirk of anticipation plastered itself on his face, and he felt for the tentative bond that he could now recognize, finding easily where Voldemort was residing. Calling the shadows to wrap around him like it was second nature, he disappeared.


	5. Chapter 5

Severus cursed his trembling hands once more as he prepared to apparate back to the Dark Lord's lair. His fatigue settled heavily in his bones and he could barely keep the fog from his mind as his body screamed at him for rest. He knew he was stronger than this but at the moment he didn't feel it. He didn't want to relive the visions he had witnessed. Truth be told, though he would never admit it, they had frightened him. The sight of the sharp, demonic teeth flashed across his memory and he allowed a shudder to wrack his frame. This wasn't the time to give into weakness if he wanted to survive this next encounter. He took in a deep breath and spun in place, reappearing with a loud crack that showed just how exhausted he was. Normally he wasn't so loud.

 

He strode forward with steps more confident than he was feeling and placed the pensieve on the conjured table before him, bowing at the waist and stepping back. He refrained from looking up at the serpentine man before him and kept his eyes down, unsure if he was going to be cursed now that he had accomplished his orders.

 

"You may return home to rest Severus. Continue my potion and return tomorrow with it in tow when I summon you. Failure will not be tolerated."

 

At the clear dismissal, Severus gave another bow before apparating back to the comfort of his small home. He knew he would have hell to pay the next day so he opted to head straight to sleep, not even bothering to change out of his robes.

 

Voldemort watched as his spy hurried to leave his presence. The thought that he could scare a man so stoic and in control once would have given him a sick feeling of pleasure but now all he felt was a hollow echo. He flicked his wand at the pensieve and bid it to follow him to his office. Nagini slithered after him, curling by the fire as he placed the pensieve on his desk and settled himself in his plush chair. He threw a locking spell at the door and leaned forward, steeling himself for the feeling of falling.

 

A dark, grey forest filled his view briefly before it flashed by turning into a village with androgynous creatures. He looked around for the Potter brat but couldn't find him. There was a raven haired creature sparring with a blonde but he dismissed them as they were both too old to be the boy. His eyes scanned the expanse in the memory and he cocked an eyebrow at the row of sharp teeth that were suddenly filling his vision. This, woman he assumed, was standing right next to him with a smile on her face, her mouth nothing but menacing sharpness as she watched the two sparring.

 

He was getting impatient and he felt the stirrings of his less stable emotions coming to the front. This was a waste of his time. He turned to leave the memory and stopped as amber eyes locked onto his. At first he thought it was a fluke, that he stepped into the line of view but as he kept watching the eyes followed him and a small smirk lifted the corner of the man's mouth. Ruby eyes narrowed and his grip on his wand tightened. He raised it to point at the amber eyed man and the picture around him swirled.

 

He found himself in a different forestscape that was all at once more menacing and his skin prickled as if warning him of a danger he couldn't see. He inwardly cursed his insanity believing it to be the cause and turned slightly to take in the view and caught glowing green eyes just beyond the treeline. He made to move in the direction of the creature and heard a bloodcurdling scream and laughter before the vision swirled once more. Now he was standing in the Department of Mysteries, the Veil before him. A shudder swept through him in time with the nonexistent wind blowing the tattered curtain and he made to leave once more. Again something caught the corner of his eye and he saw a pale hand come from out of the curtain to grip the cloth and begin to pull it aside.

 

All of a sudden he was back in his office chair, his head spinning. He massaged his temples and tried to process the memory he witnessed. His Potion Master was correct, they were confusing to say the least and the Potter brat didn't seem to be present in any of them.

 

$Massster? Your annoyance and frussstration are preventing me from enjoying my nap.$

 

Voldemort's eyes flicked to where Nagini was curled in front of the fire basking and his lip curled up slightly for a moment. He brushed a strand of wayward hair from his forehead and stood to pace while his mind reran what he saw. There seemed to be a whole realm beyond that veil with some type of demonic creatures. If the potion was supposed to show Potter's location than he must be hidden somewhere there, maybe in that forest to wander forever or maybe those things were hiding him. Somehow they could see him, or at least that one could, but he dismissed that thought, it just wasn't possible. He was within someone else's memory of the vision, no living being could do that.

 

"What was that coming from the veil?" He muttered out loud. "Was it one of those creatures? Did the brat going through the curtain open it so someone could come out? A life for a life?" The thought that maybe it was Potter coming back out passed through his mind briefly before he dismissed the idea. That hand had claws and last he checked, the boy was human.

 

He felt his mind slipping as he continued to ponder and suppressed a sigh of frustration. He stopped his pacing and moved to the door intent on heading to his rooms. He would be able to focus more clearly after some rest and another spell to hold back the madness. He would be calling on Snape early and he hoped, for the Potion Master's sake, that his concoction was ready.

 

He didn't doubt that the man wouldn't make it out of the manor if it wasn't.

 

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He watched as Snape stumbled to his bed, legs giving out before he had heaved himself onto the soft mattress. A mirthless laugh escaped the Potions Master's lips and he threw his mask to the corner and pulled himself onto the welcoming bedspread. His eyes fluttered closed and his breathing evened out almost immediately. He stared at the prone form for a moment before stepping into the sitting room and looking at the mess with surprise. He never took Snape as a slob. He crouched down to the book thrown across the coffee table and scanned the page it was open to.

 

"Aww Sev, I didn't know you cared so much," his voice sounded loud in the empty room.

 

He knew that which Severus Snape didn't admit to anyone save the Headmaster of Hogwarts. He was guilt ridden and still was madly in love with his mother, Lily Potter. He was given a vision of what would have occurred had he not fallen through the veil and had instead allowed Sirius to take the tumble. Severus would have died by Voldemort's hand and given Harry memories in his last moments, memories that would have made him regret not truly getting to know this bitter man. It was this knowledge that led him to follow him from the brief meeting.

 

"Whoever you are, place your wand where I can see it and put the book down. Turn around nice and slow," the baritone voice was cold and to anyone else's ears would have sounded menacing but he could hear the exhaustion at the edges.

 

"Damn you're a light sleeper," he slowly spun around with the book still in his hand as he raised them slightly to show he was unarmed. Snape's face paled as Harry smiled.

 

"This - You- Who- How-."

 

"Don't have a stroke Sev. My name is Andri, nice to make your acquaintance," he gave a mock bow, eyes never leaving Snape's face. He watched with amusement as anger and frustration overpowered confusion.

 

"Back up and get on your knees."

 

Harry obliged and chuckled to himself as ropes were conjured around him. He looked up and raised a perfectly formed eyebrow. "My, my I didn't know you were into this kind of stuff Sev. You kinky bastard you."

 

Snape grumbled under his breath and cast daggers with his eyes. "Just who are you? Answer me or I'll force Veritaserum down your throat."

 

"Oooh testy, testy. I told you Sev, the name's Andri." He flashed another smile, showing his mouthful of sharp teeth once again. The sharp inhaling of air was the only response.

 

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and looked for all intents and purposes to be battling a migraine. When he looked back on Andri his fatigue was clear in his face. He decided to take pity on the man. He did come here to check on him after all and decide his course of action on how to appease his curiosity. Who better to give him insight than the man who successfully survived playing both sides of the war. He let his glamour fall from his eyes, the emerald shining through and waited for recognition to strike. It took a moment. Snape was intent on grilling him for answers as to what he was and where he came from, no doubt recognizing his species from whatever visions that potion he created gave him.

 

When Snape finally looked into his eyes, his jaw went momentarily slack and disbelief and denial flashed through his eyes. "Wha- No, no, it can't be. You're not…"

 

Harry sighed and vanished the ropes binding him, dispelling the illusion that he was actually captive. "Afraid it's true. It is I, the magnificent Andri, bane of your existence and son of the love of your life. Formerly known as Harry Potter."

 

His hand darted out to catch the Potion Master as his legs gave out. Fatigue mixed with shock making him succumb to weakness. He tried to shake off the help but his attempts were weak and he allowed Andri, Harry his mind supplied, to all but carry him to the nearest chair. A finger touched his forehead and he jerked back. His eyelids become too heavy to keep open and he scowled at the man, boy, before him. He wore a cocky smirk and waved his finger in front of his face like he was admonishing a child.

 

"Tsk, tsk Professor. You need your rest. The interrogation can wait til the morning."

 

Snape opened his mouth to tell him off but was cut off as a yawn was torn from him and his eyes closed against his will taking him to the land of dreams. Harry cocked his head to the side and bent down to lift the man and take him to his bed. He left him to rest and wandered back into the sitting room to peruse once again through the mess.

 

He made a small noise of triumph as he found the parchment he was looking for and folded into the nearest chair to study it. The potion the Dark Lord wanted made for him. No explanation, no name for it, just a list of ingredients and a theory on how to brew it. The writing was elegant, seeming to come from Voldemort's own hand with Snape's own spidery scrawl on the edges with notes and changes to the instructions.

 

He rose to find the cauldron that contained the mystery, recalling Voldemort's order to Snape. He may not be a prodigy in potions like Snape but he wasn't a sorry sod like he had been at Hogwarts, having a decent teacher and someone who explained the theory in depth helped a lot. With the added help of the notations he knew this would be a breeze for him to finish for the spy, there were only a few steps left after all.

 

A few hours passed in relative silence as Harry concentrated on making sure each step of the potion process was flawless and thought over his next steps. He hadn't planned on revealing himself to someone so soon, if at all, and now needed to decide how to proceed. He knew Snape could protect his secret but didn't know if he would want to. He had suspicions that he would but until he knew for certain he had to play it safe, no point in spoiling his fun so early. He thought back to some of his earlier magical training with his new abilities and opted to keep an ace in his back pocket just in case. Bottling the finished product and putting a stasis charm on what remained in the cauldron, he placed the vial on the table with a note and melted into the shadows to observe as he heard the only other occupant in the house stir.

 

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Severus woke feeling more refreshed than he remembered in, well, ever. Fatigue didn't cling to him as it normally did when he first woke before his coffee and a pepper-up. That was the first clue that something wasn't right. He laid in his bed and pulled to the front of his mind the memories from the previous night. Adrenaline coursed through him as the realization and disbelief flooded him once more. One of those creatures was in his home, or was at least, and it was posing as Potter. Or it was Potter transformed. He pushed passed that thought, not liking the direction his mind was heading.

 

Slowly rising from his mattress, he swept from his room, wand in hand, and opened his senses honed from over a decade of spying. He felt no other presence as he carefully crossed the threshold into his sitting area. He knew someone had been there instantly, though his mind still wanted to deny the actual events. The mess that had been his home since shortly after the Potter brat had disappeared had been tidied. Everything was stacked in an orderly way and a vial lay innocently on what should have been a table covered in parchment. Instead only a single piece looked out of place.

 

He walked up to it, eyes constantly scanning his surroundings, and waved his wand over the entire table, scanning for any trap that may have been laid. When nothing came back, he scooped up the vial and examined the contents, a weight dropping in his stomach as he recognized it as the Dark Lord's brew. He hesitantly picked up the parchment and nearly dropped it in shock as the handwriting was blaringly familiar. He had graded homework with that same writing for 5 years, he could not mistake it.

 

Professor Sev, 

I hope it's alright that I finished that potion for the big bad Dark Lord for ya. I followed your steps so rest assured that it's correct, though I know you'll want to check it and I left the remainder where I found it so go for it and then confess my brilliance of potions! 

Just kidding, just kidding, I know you'd never do that. Anywho, now you have something to return with so he doesn't get his panties in a knot and you got some extra rest. You looked like you needed it what with all the worrying you were doing over me, so sweet! When you're back I'll be ready for that interrogation that I know you are pining for, I may even let you curse me a couple times for fun. 

Toodles,

Andri aka the Boy Wonder

 

P.S. Let's keep this between us for now, yea?

 

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose as he felt another migraine attempting to surface after reading the drivel. There was no mistaking that the creature he met last night was who had written this missive but the fact of it being Potter still wouldn't connect with the rest of the dots.

Moving to check the cauldron he begrudgingly admitted that the potion was completed properly. Casting tempus he realized that he had indeed gotten more sleep than he expected to and debated on a quick breakfast before he was summoned.

 

Something told him he wouldn't have much of an appetite later but that he may want to at least hold off until his meeting. The last thing he wanted was to lose his meal in front of the Dark Lord after last nights already pathetic display. He let out a long sigh and cursed whatever he did to deserve such annoyances in his life under his breath and went for a quick shower. At least he could potentially get answers later, even if he would have to suffer with an unknown in his home.

 

He made a mental note to have safe guards in place before he came face to face with this Andri character again.


End file.
